


Where We Stand

by yumekuimono



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Friends to Lovers, It's okay though, M/M, Mexican Food, Peter is bad at talking about feelings, Peter-centric, Wade is disappointed, but not really, that is not tacos, they kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumekuimono/pseuds/yumekuimono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's been avoiding Wade, and Wade wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We Stand

Peter looked up at the familiar buzz in the back of his skull, and when he heard the sound of the hall window opening followed by the soft thud of boots, he put down his spoon and turned off the stove. Wiping his hands on a towel, he walked into the living area to find Deadpool pulling the window closed behind him. Or rather, it was Wade Wilson he found in his apartment, as the mercenary was mostly without his customary red and black suit. Instead, he was wearing jeans and a red hoodie, though he had kept the combat boots and the mask. He pulled the latter off as he turned around, stopping dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the young man watching him from across the room.

“Petey! Um, hi, didn’t realize you’d be home. Thought you’d be out doing the hero thing, swingin’ through buildings and all that, since, y’know, we never seem to see each other anymore an’ I figured you would never give that up—my Spidey’s too responsible and shit for that—so obviously you must be goin’ out when I’m not. Although, come to think of it, I ain’t never heard of much crime happenin’ nowsabouts, so I suppose you would be home. Ya gotta be crazy to try somethin’ in the middle of daylight, which I mean, _I_ am, but even I don’t generally do that, and I had a _point_ somewhere in here. Oh yeah—thanks White—how come you been _avoiding_ me, huh, baby boy?” Peter blinked in surprise because it was true, he _had_ been avoiding Wade.

When the Merc with a Mouth had first proposed they team up, he had been mistrustful. He’d heard things from the other heroes about Deadpool, none of it remotely positive. But he also knew what it was like to be the outsider, shunned by those you looked up to, and he cautiously gave the mercenary a shot. And then another, and a third, until working together had become a regular thing. He could see how hard Wade worked to live up to Spiderman’s expectations, to be _good_ , and it rankled knowing there was so much earnestness, so much potential, that nobody else was willing to see. Peter was determined to be better than that, to be Wade’s friend. He needed one, and as it turned out, so did Peter. Wade got all his witticisms and nerdy references, and he got what it was like living a double life.

They had met just after Peter graduated university and was trying to get his feet under him. The _Daily Bugle_ was going the way of most print papers, and was becoming more of a gossip rag by the day in an attempt to stay afloat. If it had been bad working there before, now it was downright toxic. Besides, with what they paid him, there was no way he could afford his own place anywhere outside the depths of Brooklyn or, God forbid, Hoboken. Fortunately, having a degree in biochemistry and an alter ego who knew Iron Man had worked out rather well, but it wasn’t like he and the billionaire talked much. Stark was busy, and it wasn’t like they had much in common beyond the whole superhero thing anyway. So Wade had been a welcome addition to Peter’s life—both halves of it. It had been when Peter started actively _missing_ Wade when he was away on jobs (which was admittedly much less frequent now that he was being more discerning about his targets, though they also tended to take longer) that there started to be…well, it wasn’t a _problem_ exactly…was it? Peter wasn’t sure what to think about this development, so it was much easier ( ~~harder~~ ) not to.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Wade plowed right over him. “I missed you, baby boy, y’know? And you didn’t even say nothing. I thought you were different than that. Thought we mighta had somethin’. Shoulda known it’d never change—’s not like anyone wants to put up with Deadpool the crazy merc for longer’n they have to.” Wade’s voice went from anger through hurt to bitter resentment, and Peter hated hearing that, hearing him give in to the assumption that he was the problem, was always the problem. “But then I thought you mighta had a reason for not tellin’ me, and I figured I’d come around anyway.” And that was different, Peter thought. Usually giving in was immediately followed by giving up. “Couldn’t bring myself to cut and run, somehow, though Yellow keeps insisting it’d be less painful (shut up!).” That was…really different from Wade’s standard mode of operation, and Peter felt like an immense ass. “Anyway, seein’ as how you’re not dying or distressed or anything, I’ll just go, I guess. Not sure why I came, since you prob’ly don’t want me around—”

“Wade, no.” Ignoring the man’s confusion, Peter took two quick steps, closing the distance between them. Framing the merc’s face in his hands, he pressed their mouths together. When he didn’t pull back immediately, the anxious tension in Wade’s body evaporated as he took the opportunity to kiss Peter back. Strong arms wound around his back, pulling him closer. Peter’s feet left the floor as Wade lifted him up, and he hooked his legs around Wade’s waist, letting the older man carry his weight. He ended up higher than Wade, letting his arms slide down around the other man’s neck as the kiss deepened.

A brief blissful eternity later, they finally parted, and Peter leaned his forehead against Wade’s. They were both slightly breathless, and neither could keep the smile off their face.

“Guess…” Peter panted, “guess I should’ve done that sooner, huh?”

“No shit,” Wade grinned crazily. He let Peter down, but they stayed standing in each other’s personal space, fingers tangling absently, not wanting to let go of the moment.

“I didn’t know what to do,” the hero admitted, “when I realized I liked you as more than just a friend. Avoiding you was probably not the smartest move. Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Hey, it worked out didn’t it? Means I got hot Spidey kisses for sneakin’ into your apartment.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “’S not really sneaking in if I let you, dumbass.”

“You mean you left your window unlocked just for me?!” Wade shrieked overdramatically, and Peter laughed harder at his antics.

“Yes, because I just use the front door when I’m in uniform.”

“Aww, you’re so romantic.”

“Stay for dinner?”

“Anytime. Are we getting tacos or pizza?”

“Neither, since I was actually in the middle of cooking when you came in.”

Wade put on an exaggerated pout, but couldn’t keep it for long, slipping back into a smile. He followed Peter back into the kitchen, seemingly unable to keep his hands to himself, sliding his arms around Peter’s waist from behind and tucking his chin against Peter’s shoulder as he went to stand in front of the stove. Peter didn’t object, enjoying the warm presence of the other man behind him.

“So, what are we having, then?”

“Chicken escaviche,” Peter answered. “Hand me the salt, would you? It’s Mexican.” Wade’s love of that particular cuisine had rubbed off on Peter, and now that he had a job that payed decently (more than decently, actually), he figured he could afford to do more of his own cooking. It probably wasn’t healthy to subsist entirely on take out anyway.

Wade gasped, handing over the shaker. “Petey! It can’t be _real_ Mexican food—it doesn’t have any tortillas! Real Mexican food, Spidey, _real actual_ Mexican food—” And he was off again, his famous mouth going a mile a minute, enumerating all the dishes that qualified as “real” Mexican food, most of which could be found at Taco Bell. Peter smiled and let him ramble, pleasantly surprised at how quickly they fell into this new sort of comfortable intimacy.

They forewent table and chairs to eat on the couch, curled up against one another. By this time Wade had transitioned to comparing alpacas (adorable fluffy clouds of goodness) and llamas (the devil in four-legged form), with a couple of tangents about gnus (totally unrelated, but somehow they seemed relevant), letting Peter interject comments now and then. Finally Peter put their bowls on the floor and stretched out, sliding his arms around Wade and leaning his head on the merc’s shoulder. Wade finished his sentence, then was quiet for several moments, breathing in the silence.

“So,” he asked, “does this mean we’re dating now?”

Peter looked up at him, this crazy, wonderful, _beautiful_ man who somehow managed to be both intensely vulnerable and incredibly strong, yet hid it all beneath a cheerful red mask, and any hesitation he’d had before was gone. “Do you want to be?”

“Baby boy, do you really need to ask?”

“Then, yes.” Peter smiled. “Stay the night?”

“Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason I decided that Peter was not working at SI, but now I don't remember why I thought that.
> 
> Also, Brooklyn is totally gentrified now, but I couldn't be bothered to look up where within NYC Peter would have had to live without crossing the river to New Jersey.


End file.
